Slytherin's Perspective
by Most Slytherin of Gryffindors
Summary: The Slytherins in Harry’s life and their perspective on Harry and who he is. First three chapters from Sarini. Slash pairings.
1. Chapter One

**PLEASE READ DISCLAIMER AND WARNING. WILL ONLY BE SAID ON FIRST CHAPTER.**

**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Just borrowing from the pretty lady across the pond. First three chapters have been borrowed with permission from Sarini. The third chapter will be finished by me. (I will note when it will be all on me.) All consecutive chapters will all be me.

**Warning**: Will be slash so please do not read if it offends you.

**Plot**: The Slytherins in Harry's life and their perspective on Harry and who he is. First three chapters from Sarini. Slash pairings.

**Chapter One**

Severus looked at the Gryffindor table in quiet contemplation. The dynamics of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had changed dramatically several times in the past few years, all centered about Harry Potter. The previous year saw suspicion and doubt, violence and deception. This year, the nearly two months that they had been in classes, saw the castle somehow quieter than usual, more solemn and serious.

Potter had started extra training that summer, with a special dispensation from the Ministry to perform Underage Sorcery. Since the death of Black and the exposure of the Dark Lord's return Potter had been subdued and almost completely silent, only speaking when spoken to, never volunteering information. There had been concern that he would be too deep in mourning to concentrate on his lessons, the only thing that would keep him alive.

They had been wrong. Potter had accepted his fate and took to his lessons with a determination only Lupin had seen before when he was teaching the boy to defend against the dementors. He did whatever was asked of him and then some, reading book after book of defense strategies, magical theory, combat techniques, whatever he could lay his hands on in his spare time, even potions. The true surprise for Severus had come late one evening on the shores of the lake, only days after Potter had been brought to the castle from his relatives' house. He had been unable to provoke Potter at all.

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_Severus was taking a late night walk, as he often did to fend off the demons in his mind. He cursed inwardly when he saw that the grounds were not his alone, but that another had chosen them for nighttime reflection. As he got closer to the figure silhouetted in the moonlight by the lake he saw it was Potter and his eyebrows drew together in an angry inverted arch. His thin lips tightened and his eyes narrowed to slits. Tension held every muscle taught._

_"Potter," Severus said angrily, "you should not be outside at this time."_

_The boy had turned and Severus saw for the first time the deep sadness and pain in his eyes, though he did not acknowledge it at the time._

_"It is summer," Potter spoke so quietly Severus almost had to strain to hear him, "and so there is no curfew, nor house points to be taken, nor detentions to serve."_

_Potter turned again, dismissing him and gazing back over the lake. The usual hatred that laced the boy's voice when they spoke was absent and that had been Severus' first clue that something was amiss, that the pattern of his life had yet again altered when he wasn't aware of it. He took a step towards the Gryffindor that was not acting at all like the members of his House typically did._

_"But there are dangers from the Forest, from outside those gates," Severus looked towards the large iron gates that had the Hogwarts crest in the cast archway high above the ground, "from anyplace you can imagine."_

_Potter had looked at him then, with a look in his eyes that Severus could not decipher, "And the time of day makes these dangers greater? The sun goes down and evil comes out to play?" Potter shook his head and Severus noted that the boy was lightly tracing something on the back of one hand with the other. "It makes no difference. The security of daylight is an illusion."_

_The tone the boy spoke with was jaded and pessimistic... or perhaps realistic. The words of Albus and Minerva had then come into Severus' mind. The two of them had ripped him up one side and down the other for the way he had conducted the Occlumency lessons. _

_Severus was intelligent and analytical and he had let hatred cloud his mind. If he had paid attention to the things he saw in Potter's mind, rather than dismissing them outright, he would have known that while Potter might act like his father did on many occasions, there was a depth to the boy that James Potter did not have while he was a student, that Harry Potter's life was not that of a pampered celebrity._

_They had talked for hours, mostly on philosophical matters, but at the end Potter had apologized, sincerely, and asked humbly to resume the Occlumency lessons._

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Lessons had begun again and Potter gave Severus the same focus and hard work that he had given his other instructors, most of them Hogwarts professors but some of them Order members like Moody, Tonks, Shacklebolt, Bill Weasley, and several others. The headmaster's fireplace had been busy that summer with comings and goings from Grimmauld Place, still the Order's headquarters as Sirius Black was not officially deceased, the Minister of Magic having decided he needed at least one point to refuse to believe from Albus' stories.

Severus was not the only professor who was keeping an eye on the Gryffindors. Minerva often gazed sadly on her House, and Albus' twinkle dimmed when he looked at the Boy-Who-Lived. Potter had not smiled, not truly anyway, since before term began. His eyes had dark circles under them and there were shadows hidden in the emerald green irises. While his friends laughed and joked around him it was not to the extent of previous years. They were constantly conscious of Potter's sober presence and when he spoke everyone near him listened.

The interactions between Houses had been completely disrupted when Potter began ignoring Malfoy from the first insult right after the Welcoming Feast. Severus had watched carefully as first rage, then indignation, and finally confusion had shown themselves on his Slytherin's face. After a week of attempting to get a rise out of Potter the unbalance that Malfoy clearly felt had to be addressed.

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_"Mr. Malfoy," Severus had addressed the boy firmly after a Potions lesson, "stay behind."_

_They had adjourned to his office and Severus had glared down at the young Slytherin, "Mr. Malfoy you are treading on very thin ice. The Ministry is watching you, as is the staff of this school, expecting you to follow in your father's footsteps." Malfoy had sneered ever so slightly at that, most likely thinking that Severus did not notice. "Your continued harassment of Potter will only make any action he might take against you completely justified. Remember that once again he can do no wrong in the eyes of the world."_

_At that the sneer became full blown, "Saint Potter."_

_"Indeed, Mr. Malfoy," Severus kept his face impassive. "One thing about saints... they may be martyrs or sacrifices, but they rarely choose the losing side in the long run."_

_Malfoy had blinked in astonishment. He no doubt knew that Severus had the Dark Mark and was working for the Dark Lord. When he reported the goings on at the school Severus would report this conversation verbatim and tell the Dark Lord he was testing Malfoy's loyalty to the cause, just in case Malfoy somehow reported the talk as well. Severus always covered his own ass._

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Since that talk there had been almost no contact between Malfoy and Potter. They ignored each other unless the situation forced them together. Potter was back on his quidditch team, his lifetime ban rescinded, much to Minerva's satisfaction. The only times Malfoy and Potter were seen interacting were during quidditch matches or when they were paired together in classes, where they kept conversation to a bare minimum.

Severus had assigned partners at the beginning of the term, no two from the same House, and of course he put Malfoy and Potter together. The number of Gryffindors that had made it into his N.E.W.T. class was infuriating... and Severus blamed it all on Granger, who must have nearly forced the information into their heads before the O.W.L. examination.

Lunch ended, and the students began drifting out of the great hall and heading towards their afternoon classes. There was only one week left before the winter holiday, there was a Hogsmeade weekend the next day, and the students were getting into the holiday mood. They were more restless in class, noisier in the halls, and more students were being caught out of their common rooms after hours.

Strangely enough, Potter was not among them. They had either trained him too well, or he wasn't sneaking out anymore. Even with his improved skill in Occlumency, Potter still got the occasional dream through his link with the Dark Lord or bursts of pain accompanied by high emotion. He reported dutifully to the headmaster, though their relationship was somewhat strained as a result of the previous year.

Severus watched the 'Golden Trio', a moniker that had somehow been assigned to Potter, Weasley, and Granger, leave the hall sedately, Potter flanked by his best friends. The Hogwarts rumor mill said that Weasley and Granger were a couple, or that they were hopelessly in love but had no clue that the other felt the same. There was no sign of a relationship publicly, and the staff had no idea what was going on, though Severus suspected that Lupin knew but wouldn't say. The werewolf had returned to his former position at the school, brought back by Dumbledore as much for his sake as for Potter's. Black's death had hit them both hard.

"You have him now, right?" Lupin said in a lifeless tone. The full moon was approaching and he looked like hell. There was much more gray in his hair and he was dangerously thin.

Severus nodded and snorted, "My favorite class."

"That bad?" Lupin looked at Severus tiredly and Severus wondered what the private lessons between Potter and Lupin were like. He hadn't heard either of them mention Black since before Potter was lured to the Ministry.

"Potter, Malfoy, Granger, Weasley, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Zabini, Nott, Thomas, Finnigan, Macmillan, Corner, Crabbe, Goyle, and dangerous mixtures," Severus said dryly. Just planning for that class gave him migraines. Crabbe and Goyle had only barely passed their O.W.L. exams but Severus couldn't turn them away from his class without close attention from the Dark Lord that he didn't want. "I expect they'll kill me before the Dark Lord or Dumbledore manages it." Severus paused, "At least I am spared Longbottom's melting cauldrons."

"I am sure he agrees," Lupin smiled, but the smile was affected. His eyes were dull and filled with pain. Severus guessed that Potter was the only thing that kept the werewolf going.

Severus sneered and headed down to his classroom. The students were already there as he swept in, robes predictably billowing behind him and sneer fixed firmly in place. He strode to the front of the room as the door slammed behind him, past the pairs of students... Potter with Malfoy, Granger with Goyle, Macmillan with Crabbe, Weasley with Abbott.

The students who did poorly in general were paired with those who had more talent. Granger and Macmillan would keep Goyle and Crabbe from creating any explosions and both of them were highly conscientious prefects so there would be no sabotage of other cauldrons. Only two students, Malfoy and Granger, had achieved 'Outstanding' on their exams and he was forced to accept those who scored 'Exceeds Expectations' into his class.

"The Potion of Youth," Severus flicked his wand and the directions and ingredients appeared on the blackboard, "is a controlled substance under Ministry regulations. It can give the physical appearance of youth but will not reverse the internal processes of aging. Taken in too high a dosage, this potion can cause severe physical damage. Be very cautious in your preparation and execution. The slightest error can cause drastic changes to the effects of this potion."

After a pause the class snapped into action. By their sixth year they were well trained... silent when he entered the room, working at the appropriate time, and keeping their talking to a minimum. As he had begun at the end of the previous year, Severus mostly ignored Potter. When he passed his workstation he would compliment Malfoy and award points to Slytherin, even if Potter was doing most of the work.

Oddly enough the two of them worked well together. Their determination not to acknowledge the other's existence unless absolutely necessary made it possible for them to work quietly and efficiently. The competition they displayed on the quidditch field carried over into the classroom now. All the energy Potter had put into his anger and tantrums the previous year had been redirected into his studies. Severus had a guess that Potter wouldn't be playing quidditch at all this year if his friends and Minerva hadn't persuaded him.

"Strained murtlap," Malfoy said dully as Severus passed their desk.

Barely looking at the cauldron, Potter poured the carefully measured yellow liquid into their cauldron and Malfoy stirred in figure eights while the yellow blended into the blue mixture, not turning it green but swirling and remaining separate. Severus nodded at Malfoy and continued on to the next pair. Macmillan was looking very stressed as he checked everything Crabbe did while doing his own work as well. Severus made a note to change the partners around after the holiday so Macmillan didn't have a nervous breakdown.

There was no way he could have predicted or stopped what happened next. It was a combination of several accidents occurring all at once, with disastrous consequences. The class had managed not to melt a single cauldron so far that year, or to cause one explosion. Severus credited his partner assignments, as he had seen Granger bring a potion back from the brink of disaster more than once, not that he had commented.

Severus was at the front of the classroom, alternating between watching the class and going over the essays they had handed in before class began. He snapped his head up when he heard a sharp hiss. It was the sound made when someone sucked in their breath to deal with sudden harsh pain.

Potter was in the aisle between the desks and he dropped the pixie wings he had just gotten from the supply cupboard. All his muscles were taught and his hands were clenched in tight fists, his eyes squeezed shut and sweat beading on his forehead. It was the first time one of these bursts had come during a class as far as Severus knew.

"Harry!" Granger turned away from her cauldron to help her friend.

She had a cloth out of her bag in an instant which she spelled to be moist and cool, wiping his forehead. Weasley left his station as well and was massaging Potter's shoulders. Potter shrugged out of his robes off and Weasley tossed them to Finnigan, who put them neatly on Potter's bag. He tore off his tie and dress shirt and the whole class could see his undershirt clinging to him. This was clearly a well known routine for the Gryffindors. Both of Potter's friends were speaking in low tones that the rest of the class couldn't hear.

Severus was debating taking action when Potter's eyes opened and he put a hand on Granger's shoulder, "I'm fine."

Granger nodded and wiped off his face with her cloth. She gave him a quick hug while Weasley patted his back and handed Potter his shirt and tie.

Severus checked over the classroom quickly and saw that Malfoy was paying close attention to Granger's station, while tending his own cauldron carefully. Severus followed his gaze and his stomach turned over.

"Goyle, NO!" Malfoy yelled just as Gregory Goyle dropped far too many pixie wings into the cauldron without turning down the flame.

Potter's eyes quickly located the problem and he flung Granger bodily towards Weasley while drawing his wand and letting his shirt and tie fall. Goyle's eyes widened and he dove away from his cauldron. Knowing it was too late Severus still flicked his wand towards the bubbling cauldron and put out the flame, then cast a strong cooling charm.

"Harry get down!" Weasley yelled.

Potter had joined Severus in casting shield charms over the desks and other cauldrons while the students ducked under them for cover. He ignored the pleas of his friends.

"Cover yourself Potter!" Severus ordered. He saw tears falling from Potter's eyes as he fought back the pain so he could concentrate on the spells he was weaving. Severus felt more than heard the protective ward that Potter put on the classroom, not trusting to the one always in place. He was in the process of erecting a containment ward around the cauldron when Potter finally started to shield himself.

Before either of them finished the cauldron began spewing a sickly green looking thick liquid. Weasley and Granger both tried to jump out from under the desk they were shielded by, but were prevented by Potter's wards. Potter was hit on his arms and face and Severus saw the potion sink into his skin. When the cauldron settled down Potter and Severus just looked at each other for a moment before taking down the protections.

"No one touch that potion!" Severus ordered his class as they crept out from under their desks. He strode to Potter, who was casting cleaning spells on himself in an effort to prevent damage. "How do you feel?"

"Apart for the blinding headache?" Potter said with a little chuckle and small smile. "I'm fine."

Severus turned to the rest of the class, "Goyle, go directly to the headmaster's office. This is out of my hands." He looked directly at Granger, "Put some of this in vials and clean up the rest. Everyone else see if you can salvage your own work."

"Professor?" Potter's voice was heard clearly over the shuffling of feet and low discussions of lab partners. Severus turned around and saw that the green eyes were wide and Potter was clutching his stomach.

"Harry?" Weasley reached out to steady his friend.

"Don't touch him!" Severus snapped. The last thing he needed was for someone else to get Goyle's messed up potion on them. Weasley obeyed but glared at him.

Severus summoned gloves and slipped them on his hands. He cast diagnostic spells on Potter and didn't like the results. The-Boy-Who-Lived had an elevated heart rate and his breathing was irregular. Potter dropped to his knees and looked up at him, trying to mask the fear in his eyes.

"Professor?" Granger's voice sounded very little. "What's happening to him?"

Severus grabbed one of the vials Granger had filled and began casting a variety of spells over it. He cursed, "Goldstein go get Potter's Head of House, Patil, the headmaster. Abbott fetch Madam Pomfrey and Professor Lupin. Hurry, all of you." He selected all prefects for the tasks, knowing they could not only go through the halls during class unquestioned but also get to the headmaster.

The three students dashed out of the room and Potter curled into a ball as he fell on the floor. Severus knelt beside him and put a gloved hand on Potter's back. There was nothing he could do to stop the progress of the potion. Granger and Weasley knelt down with him, also with gloves on. Severus felt Potter's muscles contract and spasm, and then the already small Gryffindor started to shrink.

Both Granger and Weasley were near panic when it stopped, and Potter was less than half the size he started out at. He looked up at them and his face was that of a small child. Severus cursed yet again and stood up, glaring at the students who were pressing towards Potter in a tight circle.

"Whe-Where am I?" Potter stuttered fearfully. His eyes were too big for his face and his hair was falling over them. His glasses hadn't shrunk with him and were sliding down his nose. He held them up with one hand and was squinting through them.

"You're at Hogwarts Potter," Malfoy said with a mild disdain.

Potter's small head snapped around and he saw all the students in black robes crowded around him. He was still holding his wand and his hand tightened on it instinctively.

"Who are you?" Potter was shaking. "What's Hogwarts? How do you know my name?"

There was a harsh laugh from Parkinson, "He doesn't know a thing!"

Some other students laughed, mostly Slytherins but a few others as well. Weasley looked confused, upset, and mad all in one. Granger was quite obviously thinking as hard as she could, analyzing the situation. Potter, meanwhile, was snapping his head back and forth, clearly getting more and more frightened with each passing moment.

"That's enough!" Severus snapped and all the laughter and talking stopped immediately. "I told you to salvage your potions!"

The students all scurried back to their desks, with the exceptions of Granger and Weasley who were still trying to figure out what to do about their best friend. Potter's shaking had increased with Severus' yelling and there was a subtle wind building in the dungeon classroom. Severus looked at Potter carefully. The boy had stood up and was still looking all around him, not letting any one person out of his sight for more than a few moments. He saw Severus looking at him and flinched. He turned and Granger took a step towards him.

That was when the first beaker exploded on the other side of the room. Everyone in the room, with the exception of Severus, jumped and looked over at the shelf where glass object after object were breaking in a shower of clear fragments.

Granger visibly swallowed and lowered herself to her knees. She extended a hand and spoke in a low soothing voice, "Hi. My name is Hermione."

"I... I'm Harry," Potter didn't shake her hand but he did calm somewhat, though still tensed.

"How old are you Harry?" Granger asked pleasantly. The entire class was staring at her.

"Four," he answered shortly, looking very distrustful.

Granger smiled and Potter relaxed a little more. Glass stopped shattering. The door to the classroom opened and people started pouring in.

"Is there a problem Professor Snape?" Albus asked from the doorway.

Severus stepped to the side and revealed the now four-year-old Potter, "We do have a situation Headmaster."

Severus heard several gasps and Madam Pomfrey rushed forward. Her classic nurse's garb, that didn't vary much from the muggle equivalent, seemed to make her acceptable to Potter, and Severus remembered that the boy had been raised by muggles.

"What happened Severus?" Lupin asked, coming up next to him.

Severus sneered, "There was a slight problem with one of the Youth Potions."

"You call this _slight?_" Lupin hissed. He removed his robe, under which he was wearing muggle clothing, and slowly approached Potter and Poppy. "Hi Harry. My name is Remus. I was a friend of your parents."

Potter instantly focused on Lupin, his eyes brighter and a little watery, "Moony?"

Lupin picked Harry up, the oversize robes hanging from him, and held him tightly. Severus could see his eyes bright with tears and the words were choked, "Yes Harry, it's Moony."


	2. Chapter Two

**AN: **I know everyone is wanting updates to _Saving Harry _and my other stories but I need to remind everyone that I am a really **SLOW **writer (as if you couldn't tell by my lack of updates.) I am hoping that I will finish writing a chapter before Spring quarter but I promise their will be updates during the summer. Thank you for your patience.

**Chapter Two**

Draco Malfoy contemplated the bowl of soup in front of him. The last six months had been the hardest and strangest of his life. He had been raised on the idea that while his father was indeed a Death Eater, and mostly agreed with the ideals behind the Dark Lord's war, he had been serving him and committing various atrocities under the Imperious Curse. He was taught that the Dark Lord had the right idea, but that Malfoys didn't get their hands dirty, and certainly didn't serve.

He saw in his fourth year exactly what the Imperious Curse was like, and experienced how it felt. He hadn't been able to fight it off like Potter had, but he knew, he _knew_ somewhere deep down inside that his father would be able to... unless he wanted to be a Death Eater and do all those things he was accused of years ago.

Draco did not remember the trial, or the defeat of Voldemort, only a vague sense of tension and fear, of uncertainty. He knew that when he was young he used to wake from nightmares calling for his father, never knowing if he was actually there or not. Lucius Malfoy was not a warm man, or affectionate, but he always came to Draco's room on those nights and comforted him.

When his father was captured at the Ministry he had been furious. He was furious with his father for lying to him, as it was rather obvious at that point, to Draco anyway, that Lucius Malfoy was not under Imperious. He was furious with himself for believing his father's lies. He was furious with Potter for making him discover that his father was not the man Draco had always seen him as.

At the beginning of the term Draco was still mad. His mother had told him that not only was Sirius Black her cousin, but he was innocent of all charges. Then his Aunt Bellatrix had come to stay with them for a short time, along with her husband Rodolphus and his brother Rabastan. None of them were pleasant people. Draco had spent most of the summer avoiding his aunt and uncles, seeing them only at meals.

He held in his anger and kept an impassive mask all summer long. Once term started Draco had been only too glad to take out his frustrations on Potter. On the train he discovered that Potter was already at Hogwarts and he felt a surge of jealousy. He would have given nearly anything to spend the summer anywhere but at Malfoy Manor. Then when he actually managed to come face-to-face with Potter the dumb Gryffindor had the temerity to ignore him.

After talking with Snape, and getting the surprise of his life, Draco started to think. He realized that for the first time he could remember he was questioning what he had always been told and forming his own opinions. He came to a few conclusions:

1. Not all mudbloods were weak. Case in point was Granger, the top of their class in everything except Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, where Draco and Potter were at the top.

2. At fifteen years old Potter had faced the Dark Lord in battle three times that Draco knew of and walked away each time. If he could accomplish that much while that young what would he be capable of once he passed his power threshold in a few years?

3. While not perfect, the current wizard government was not that bad. They kept their world secret from the muggles and Draco was just fine with that. He had no wish for the wizarding world to be exposed, or even to eliminate all the muggles. Draco had never interacted with any and saw no reason he would ever have to. What did he care if they went about their lives with no idea that he existed?

After analyzing all this and much more Draco came to the conclusion that he wanted nothing to do with the Dark Lord. He had heard of the Dark Lord's real name in a confrontation with Weasley and looked it up in the old school yearbooks in the library. That was when he discovered that the Dark Lord's father was a muggle, pure muggle. He had no wish to serve a half-blood hypocrite. Potter had more wizard blood than Riddle did.

The thought had terrified him, and Draco had started extending his prefect walks around the castle past the time he was supposed to be in bed. When he encountered Potter out one night on the quidditch pitch he was tempted to give him detention, or at least threaten him. Then he saw one of the last things he ever expected.

Potter was crying.

The-Boy-Who-Lived was sitting on a rock under the stands, his shoulders shaking and tears silently pouring down his face. The sight had Draco transfixed. He didn't approach Potter, but just watched him from the shadows. The famous glasses were nowhere in sight and the green of Potter's eyes was brilliant, brightened by tears that fell down his cheeks unheeded, like liquid diamonds.

It was no mystery why Potter was crying all alone. Draco had known for years that Black was Potter's godfather and the two were in touch. He had been sickened at first that Potter was communicating with the man who had betrayed his parents. Then he had discovered the fact conveniently left out by his father, that Black was innocent. Draco had shuddered to think of spending twelve years locked up with the dementors for a crime he didn't commit. Not even Potter or Dumbledore deserved that.

That was the night Draco decided he no longer hated Potter. He realized with a twinge of what he later decided was guilt exactly what he had been teasing Potter about all those years. Being an orphan hadn't really meant anything to him. After all, Potter still had a family.

Draco went back to the Slytherin dorms very late that night, leaving after Potter did so he wouldn't attract attention to his movement. The next night he went out to the quidditch pitch earlier, wondering if he would see Potter again. It was getting towards late September and the nights were getting chilly. Potter was there again, but wasn't crying, and Draco decided to approach him.

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_He walked across the pitch in clear sight of the spot where Potter sat, his destination obvious by the time he got close to the Gryffindor, "Potter."_

_"Malfoy," the response was quiet and a bit impatient. No doubt Potter was angry that Draco had invaded his solitude._

_Draco just sat down next to him and didn't say anything more. He wondered why he had done this, and what exactly he would say to Potter, 'Sorry for teasing you about your dead parents for five years? I understand now that my dad's in jail?' Draco didn't think that was the best idea._

_"What do you want Malfoy?" Potter had asked without looking at him._

_"Nothing Potter," Draco answered, almost completely honest. He wanted his old life back, before the Dark Lord came back, when he trusted his father and knew exactly what life had in store for him. "I don't want anything from you."_

_That was when Potter had turned to look at him, "Then why are you here?"_

_Draco shrugged and let the gesture suffice as an answer for a few minutes, "I miss my father, you know. I used to think he was this incredible, powerful, handsome ideal of exactly what a wizard should be. Now I don't know what to think."_

_"You're not the only one," Potter snorted and Draco was surprised at the disgust in his voice. "My father wasn't exactly the sparkling hero everyone claims he was. I hated him when I found out, and everyone who told me how wonderful he was and how much I was like him."_

_Draco blinked in shock, "He was a rising star in the Auror Division and Head Boy here. What did he do that was so horrible?"_

_Potter had looked at Draco carefully, as if weighing his choices, "I haven't told anyone, not anyone who didn't already know anyway. I'm not sure why but...," Potter paused and took a deep breath. "He was a bully."_

_"But...," none of the stories Draco had been raised on painted James Potter as a bully. If he had been, Draco's parents certainly would have included that in their condescending stories. "I don't know where you got your information Potter, but I doubt you're right. My parents didn't like him, and they told me all sorts of stories about the golden boy James Potter, but they never said he was a bully."_

_"I saw it... in a pensieve." Potter seemed to pull inward, to get a little smaller. "My cousin is a bully. I know them when I see them."_

_Draco thought about it for a moment, and wondered exactly why he was arguing, why he trying to change Potter's opinion of his father. Having been disillusioned himself, he knew that he would give just about anything to get his old beliefs back, to make them true. He supposed he would feel a little better to do the same for someone else, even if that someone was Potter._

_"Pensieves show only one point of view Potter," Draco said firmly. "Whatever you saw, you saw it from the mind of the person using the pensieve."_

_"They as much as admitted it," Potter looked very upset and Draco wondered who 'they' were. "Re- Professor Lupin said that Dad grew up, but..."_

_"Yes?"_

_Potter shook his head, his hair moving with him and the messy locks falling into a new messy pattern, "I can't..."_

_"Then don't," Draco shrugged. He thought for a long moment before speaking again, "Look Potter... I'm sorry for everything."_

_Potter just waved a hand, "Don't think on it. I've got bigger things to worry about than detentions or house points or quidditch."_

_"Yeah," Draco felt the words resonate within him, "I know." There was a long silence. "I'm not my father Potter... and I don't think I want to be."_

_"I'm not my father either Malfoy," Potter responded._

_Draco held out a hand, "Draco."_

_"Harry," they shook._

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That was the first of many late night discussions. Draco told no one in Slytherin and he guessed Potter told no one in Gryffindor as Weasley still glared at him and they traded barbs and insults frequently. Nearly every night Draco found Harry out on the quidditch pitch, even when it started getting very cold. Harry would be using warming charms, and Draco would do the same.

Normally they just talked about everyday stuff, classes and school gossip. Draco was tempted to tell Harry about his summer, thinking that maybe he would understand if anyone would. They never got to that point though. Draco remembered the first time he had gone outside and Potter wasn't there. He had sat there for over an hour before giving up and going back inside. Once there he realized how disappointed he was... and the thought terrified him. Was he actually friends with Harry Potter? The next night Potter was there again, with no excuse for or even mention of the previous night.

"Come on Draco," Pansy whined. "We have to get to Potions."

Draco rolled his eyes, "We have over ten minutes."

He stood though, and motioned for Greg and Vince to follow. The Gryffindors were already gone, not daring to risk the wrath of the Slytherin Head of House. Potions started the same as always. The assigned partners, a pretty ingenious move on Snape's part though Draco would never say so aloud, reluctantly sat at their desks, sitting as far apart as possible. Draco always placed his notes where Potter could read them, and Potter did the majority of the work. It was expected of Draco to treat Potter like a servant, and of Potter to be the noble Gryffindor and do the work while shooting icy glares at Draco.

He knew about Potter's scar and the connection to the Dark Lord that was formed by the failed killing curse. Knowing and seeing were two very different things he discovered that day. Draco sent Potter off to get more pixie wings out of the supply cupboard when he discovered they didn't have enough. When it took him too long to return Draco twisted on his stool, ready with a scathing remark. He wasn't prepared to see Potter in silent pain, with Granger and Weasley comforting him.

Draco immediately began watching Goyle's cauldron, abandoned by Granger with her friend in need. He made small adjustments to his own so it could wait for the pixie wings and remain stable. His eyes went back and forth, his cauldron, Potter, Goyle's cauldron, Potter, his cauldron, Potter, Potter...

Potter had torn off his robes and uniform shirt, revealing an undershirt clinging to a sweat soaked body. The body in mention had, at some point in the past few years, developed an amazing musculature. At Hogwarts the changes that most students went through were hidden under voluminous robes. Sure, the girls grew breasts and hips and the robes hung differently, but the boys remained a mystery to all but their roommates, quidditch teams, and girlfriends. Potter would never be tall, Draco had long since bypassed him there, but he more than made up for it with ropy muscle, the muscles of a runner rather than a weight-lifter.

His mouth went dry at the sight and Draco began to wonder if he wanted more than just a casual hidden friendship out of the Gryffindor Seeker. He was tempted to abandon his cauldron and join Granger and Weasley in making sure Potter was okay. His cauldron...

Draco remembered after a brief moment that he was keeping an eye on Goyle. He winced when he saw the flame hadn't been lowered as it should have been, but that could be fixed. Potter had recovered and Granger would be returning to her table. Draco just began to look away when his eye caught...

"Goyle, NO," Draco yelled, but knowing it was already too late.

He immediately ducked under his desk, expecting an explosion at any time. There was a buzz in the air as wards went up in the room. Draco looked out from under the desk and saw Potter standing dangerously close to the unstable cauldron, casting spells more advanced than any they had been taught. He then knew why Potter had been at Hogwarts for the summer, or least what he had been doing while he was there.

_Damn self-sacrificing Gryffindor,_ Draco thought as he attempted to stand up and pull Potter out of harms way. The students were all protected, so why was the idiot still there? Whatever ward had been cast prevented Draco from going anywhere and for a moment he just appreciated the magic before remembering why it was there.

The explosion of the cauldron was loud, much louder than anything Longbottom had ever produced. Goyle and Crabbe did not belong in that class, but chances were their fathers had pulled some strings and there they were. In years past one of the competent Slytherins had always been there to protect them from themselves and Snape ignored it. In that sense, house favoritism worked against the two clods. Draco just hoped that whatever jobs they were hired for didn't require anything beyond rudimentary potions skills.

When all was safe the class crawled out from under their desks. Draco watched, indifference masking his horror, as Potter convulsed and began to shrink. _The pixie wings and the extra heat made the potion stronger and longer lasting,_ Draco instantly thought to himself. From the look on his face Snape figured the same thing. The odd thing was that Snape actually seemed concerned about the student he claimed to despise.

If Granger and Weasley noticed they didn't react. The rest of the class was either staring in shock at Potter or complying with Snape's orders.

_Damn, he was a cute kid,_ Draco said to himself as Potter's big green eyes looked his way.

There was a gnawing feeling in the pit of Draco's stomach. Suppose the effects of the potion couldn't be reversed. Not only would the wizarding world not have Potter to save them from Voldemort again, but Draco would lose his nighttime talks with Harry. Until that moment he hadn't realized how much he had come to rely on them, how much they meant, how they held him together as the world was crumbling around him.

_Fuck_, was the only word sufficient to describe how he felt just then.

Professor Lupin carried Potter away, tears in both of their eyes. The significance of the nickname 'Moony' occurred instantly to Draco and he wondered who had the gall to give such a nickname to a werewolf. It was probably Potter Sr. and his friends, the infamous Marauders that Harry had mentioned on more than one occasion.

Draco stayed after class. Professor Snape was going to need help finding an antidote and Draco was probably the best person to help him. It would just be a matter of convincing the professor of that.

"Professor?" Draco stepped to the front of the classroom. They were the only ones left in the room and Snape was not looking in the best of moods.

"If you have something to say Mr. Malfoy, say it quickly and leave," Snape glared at him like he had never glared at his Slytherins before.

"I want to help sir," Draco tried to look humble, something that Malfoys didn't really do well. Snape just continued to glare and Draco started to lose his composure. He was worried about Harry, about himself if he didn't get Harry back. "Potter... he... we... Harry..."

Snape lifted a single eyebrow without moving any other muscle in his body and Draco just stared, awed at the control the man had over his face, "I am well aware of your nocturnal habits Mr. Malfoy."

"How...?" Draco was taken aback for the third time that morning.

"There is not a thing that occurs on the grounds of this castle that the headmaster is unaware of," Snape said harshly.

Draco snorted and caught Snape off-guard, "Sure, that's why Harry's almost died at least three times on the grounds, because Dumbledore knew he had hired Death Eaters and there was a basilisk cruising the pipes."

Snape smirked, "I do not trust you, and neither will the headmaster."

"Harry does," Draco said with a touch of sadness. "If that's not enough, then which will it be? Veritaserum or Legilimency? You have both at your disposal."

Snape looked him over carefully and Draco stood as tall as he could before his Head of House with his head held high. He still had the pride and arrogance he was raised with and he'd be damned if Snape found him wanting.

"You submit willingly?" Snape asked in a hiss.

Draco gave a short nod and felt a tingle as the room was warded against intrusions of any type, including eavesdroppers. He had been subjected to many types of magic before but was not expecting the assault on his mind to feel as it did. It was like a bludger to the head, the impact sudden and strong. Images flashed through his mind... his father comforting him after nightmares... the stories about the Imperious Curse... his realization that it had all been lies... Harry crying... moments from their conversations all blending together... Harry's eyes in the dark of the pitch, filled with pain... Harry appearing from under that blasted cloak... Harry...

Draco was on the floor gasping. He felt like his head would split open, "He said it was bad... but I never thought," he looked up at his Head of House. "You bastard! You did that to him all last year? How in hell was that supposed to teach him anything?"

Snape just looked down at him, amused, "If you still wish to assist me I would not recommend disparaging comments on my parentage, Mr. Malfoy."

"Yes, Professor," Draco almost flushed when he realized he had mouthed off to the man who was probably the only professor he could turn to.

"You may leave Mr. Malfoy," Snape said coolly. "I expect you here tomorrow morning immediately following breakfast. I trust you will not regret missing the trip into Hogsmeade."

"No sir," Draco responded honestly. It would be a relief not to go and listen to Pansy's annoying voice simper on and on. "The novelty wore off long ago."

Snape just nodded and waved to dismiss him. Draco turned and gathered his things together, noting that Potter's bag was already gone. The rest of the Gryffindors must have taken it with them.

He heard as he left the room, "Should you find yourself wandering tonight Mr. Malfoy, Lupin's quarters are connected to his office."

Draco turned sharply and gave his professor a piercing look, that got no response and from which he learned nothing.

His feet brought him out to the quidditch pitch that night, and it seemed empty and much bigger than normal. Professor Lupin's classes had been canceled for the day... and indefinitely as far as Draco knew. Neither he nor Harry had been at lunch or dinner in the great hall. The odd thing was that none of his fellow Slytherins were discussing what happened to Potter... and the Gryffindors were the same as always.

If Draco hadn't known what had happened for sure... or if Potter and Lupin hadn't been missing... he might have thought he was going crazy.

Lupin. Leaving the quidditch pitch, Draco's mind lingered on the werewolf and his newest charge. He was in the Defense Against the Dark Arts office almost before he knew for certain he was headed there.

"Mr. Malfoy," a soft voice startled him out of his thoughts, "Severus told me you might come by."

Draco looked at the professor and nodded, not entirely comfortable around someone he had been taught was a dangerous beast his whole life. Of course, many of the things he had been taught were wrong.

The way his voice came out, almost pleading, was not very Malfoy-like, "Can... Can I see Harry?"

Lupin smiled and motioned towards the open door behind him, "It's a bit late for a four year old, so Harry's asleep. You can see him, but don't wake him."

"He's _sleeping?_" Draco was astonished. Harry told him he almost never slept.

"The Harry in there now is not the Harry we know," Lupin looked pained, a little lost. "He's truly his four year old self. If nothing else this little break will catch him up on all the sleep he misses."

Draco nodded. He went through the door that Lupin pointed out and saw a room that must have been an almost exact duplicate of a Gryffindor dorm room. It was all red and gold, every bit of it. Sickening, really. He crept quietly towards the bed, which had all but one curtain closed. The open curtain allowed someone to look in on the sleeping toddler.

Harry looked so peaceful, sleeping all curled up in a ball with his thumb in his mouth. He looked so tiny in that bed, though it was only a twin. Harry had made vague references to his muggle relatives, casually mentioning 'his cupboard' among other disturbing things. Draco wondered how this Harry was adapting to the castle.

"Has he mentioned the Dursleys at all?" Draco asked Lupin quietly.

The werewolf stood next to Draco's chair as they both watched Harry sleep,

"Not directly. He just asked me once not to make him go home."

"Has he ever told you...?" Draco couldn't complete the question without giving away Harry's secrets.

Lupin shook his head and looked pained, "We haven't talked, not really... not since your third year. He had..."

"...Sirius," Draco finished. "I know."

"From what Molly," Lupin paused, "that's Mrs. Weasley, has told us, Harry faired little better than a house elf in that house."

"Why am I the only student who knows what happened to him?" Draco had to ask.

"You didn't leave class with the others," Lupin responded, "so the headmaster didn't have a chance to make you forget."

Draco's eyes rounded. The headmaster casting a memory charm on a large group of students was probably enough to get him fired, even sent to Azkaban. The fact that he was left with his memory...

"You all trust me," Draco whispered.

Lupin gave him a small smile, "We've learned the hard way to trust Harry and Severus told us Harry trusts you."

Draco wasn't quite sure how to respond. Not even Weasley and Granger, Harry's best friends, were being trusted with this secret. He felt a surge of pride, greater than any he had ever felt from the rare compliments his father had bestowed on him. He had truly earned this... more so than any other thing in his life... and he was not going to let Harry down.


End file.
